


and everything was perfect

by apprehensionatthegala



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is a god, Dark Character, Insanity, M/M, Tags will probably be updated, The Cecil/Carlos is pretty one-sided, dark!Cecil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apprehensionatthegala/pseuds/apprehensionatthegala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil had always been different. He was not different in any way that you could see, not at first. You could hear it sometimes. It was like his voice carried the universe in its sonorous crests and troughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and everything was perfect

**Author's Note:**

> My second fanfiction posted here, and my first WtNV fic! I had this idea a while ago, a little after One Year Later was posted. Beware, because it's going to get a whole lot darker.

Cecil had always been different. He was not different in any way that you could see, not at first. You could hear it sometimes. It was like his voice carried the universe in its sonorous crests and troughs. It was most apparent when he was angry, or frustrated, and sometimes when he was very happy. He would utter a few words; could they even be called words? and you would feel chilled to the bone. Apprehension would follow you wherever you went, as if you knew the world had changed but couldn't figure out how. It was worse if he felt affection. He would do anything to make those he cared about happy, even if he didn't go about it in the right ways. He grew frustrated when people betrayed him. They rejected and mocked him relentlessly, and eventually they left him. They always left him. They weren't perfect like the people he learned to create. He retreated further and further into his own mind, where everything was just the way he wanted it and no one hurt him. Soon he realised he could make his safe haven a reality. A real, tangible place where everything would be perfect. And thus, Night Vale was created.

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, and the moon is beautiful. Cecil needed to start somewhere when creating his perfect world. He filled Night Vale with an assortment of buildings. It needed an Arby's, for one, and a bowling alley. And a diner; he had always loved small diners. If he was going to live here, it needed a grocery store as well, and houses. There was no telling how long this took, because Cecil had realised long ago that time was a useless construct that could be easily controlled to suit his needs. Creating Night Vale had taken a single instant and an infinity. The town was in flux, not entirely fixed in space. It made it easier to work.

Night Vale grew and grew. Cecil was constantly thinking of new things it needed. An Applebee's would be nice, and a park with a bench and a tree. A library. A school. And finally, for now, a radio station. The radio would be a great way to keep building. All he had to do was talk.

He realised one day, when the town had grown significantly in size (but who could define significant?) that he was lonely. He had neglected to populate his town. He made an old woman first, and he named her Josie. Josie lived in a trailer near the Sand Wastes and was happy. Then he made a lovely couple with a daughter named Megan. He created a man named Earl Harlan, who had memories of being childhood friends with Cecil. He did not create anyone with nothing. They all had stories, pasts, backgrounds that they remembered but that did not exist before Cecil created them. He created many people, and they were all happy. And Cecil reported the happening of the town exactly as they happened, and no one wondered why.

“The Sheriff's Secret Police would like to inform you that there is a slight traffic blockage at Main Street and 14th street. It seems that a small group of armadillos are taking their time crossing the road and are being quite rude. Now, Craig with a word from our sponsors.” Craig was standing in his booth, unresponsive. Some people simply failed to animate. It was quite an inconvenience, as he couldn't destroy what he'd created. Cecil sighed and readjusted his microphone.

“Imagine a plane. Imagine an empty plane of existence. Imagine a blue light filling your eyes as you gaze upon this plane...”  


* * *

 

  
When Carlos set off for his new job in Arizona, he thought he knew the way. He printed out maps and directions, and he had a whole team of scientists in the back of his truck who were providing no help at all.

“I'm sure we've passed this tree before. You all are terrible with directions.” Emma and Martin meowed in response, and Carlos ran his hand through his dark hair.

“Oh good, something new. We've been going in circles for hours. Maybe we can ask someone the way to the college...”

Night Vale, population 53.  


* * *

 

  
“Listeners, a new man came into town today. Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist. Well, we have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why here? Why now?”

Carlos thinks this is odd.

“That new scientist, we now know is named Carlos, called a town meeting. He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate and despair, and love that hair is equal measure.”

Carlos thinks this is odder. He had not spoken to anyone who sounded like this at the meeting. Kim scratched at his leg and rubbed her cheek against his ankle. “Calm down, you just had lunch.”

The road had led him to Night Vale. The town wasn't on any maps, and he should have driven straight through and on his way the minute he arrived. An old woman named Josie had offered him the guest bedroom for the night, and he couldn't refuse. He'd leave in the morning.

He felt uneasy when he went near the radio host, Cecil. Like he shouldn't exist, like he belonged in a different place, a different time, but not here. Never here. His voice resonated in his soul, consuming his thoughts and muddling his mind. The team of scientists finally managed to coax him into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

"Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, Carlos' "team of scientists" is actually a bunch of cats. Because why not.


End file.
